No Mere Coincidence
by Starry Bright Light
Summary: Tom knew it couldn't have been a coincidence that they were thrown in together. After all, the government didn't make mistakes. After five years though, anything was possible. Eventually though, the two not-quite-strangers realize that their one connecting thread isn't quite as broken as they thought. (Starting Anew Universe!)
1. PART 1

**_Disclaimer:_** _Never have, and never will, obtain the rights to Alex Rider. Just a mere author taking Horowitz's characters for a ride._

**PART 1: The First Steps (On Different Paths)**

* * *

_"Still need to clear immigration, but after that I'll be through."_ The words gained him a few strange glances as he hurried through the airport, but really, no one cared. In such a bustling metro, most people knew at least one other language than English. Even if they didn't speak it fluently, there were very few that didn't at least know a few words. Perhaps if he had picked up a smattering of an Arabic based language, there would have been turned heads, but as it was, Italian was common. As were French, Spanish, and German. Italian fell into that _normal_ category of languages. _"It's strange to be back here."_

The voice on the other end of the phone call snorted. _"Of course it is. You've been hiding out in my backyard for the last five years."_ There was the lightest bit of chiding in the voice, but he knew that it was all in teasing. His brother had been more than happy to have the company—for a few years. As soon as he had gotten married though… well, he was more than happy to have the excuse that his little brother was leaving the country. _"You'll to have to get used to speaking a _real_ language again. I imagine it won't be long before you woo a young lady with your tales of Italy, but please—I'm too young to be an uncle. Wait a couple of years, okay?"_

He laughed aloud, earning an admonishing glare from a grandmother trying to herd her grandchildren toward a gate. He attempted to look penitent, but suspected that it wasn't working. _"Don't worry about that, Jerry. That's the last thing on my mind. I just want to get through these next couple of years—without wishing to drop out."_

A feminine voice in the background of the phone call caught his attention, and he _knew_ that Jerry would beg off_ soon_. So instead of listening to his brother fumble with excuses, he decided to give him an escape. _"Look, I'm getting close to the line. I'll give you a ring when I get to my flat."_

_"Okay."_ A long quiet sigh came across the line. _"Be careful, kid. But have some fun. Nearly losing you once was more than enough for me though, so keep your head up."_

He swallowed, fighting back the nervous itch that had been bothering him since he set foot in the airport. _"Yeah…"_ He ran an agitated hand through his hair, knowing that for once his brother wouldn't be able to see the small sign that signaled when he was stressed. _"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine here. Just worry about keeping that lady happy. She'd have your balls for supper if you catch my drift."_

There was another laugh, and it seemed that the ruse had worked. Jerry fell for it. _"That she would. I'll talk to you later, Tom._"

Tom rolled his eyes, relaxing for a moment. _"Will do_." He let the call run dead, and let out a breath of frustration. _Five years_. It had taken five long years to come back to where it all started. To be honest, he wasn't even going near his hometown—or speaking to his parents, if he had a choice—there were too many memories. _Terrible_ things had happened there. He was sure he wasn't ready to face the familiar sights again. Maybe he'd be ready sometime, but that would be far, far, into the future.

As the familiar anxiety of being within a crowd caught up with him, he pressed on. Calling Jerry—or any of his other friends back in Italy—with the purpose of ignoring the crowd was almost second nature nowadays. Jerry was more than used to these coping strategies. There was something about being caught in the midst of an ever pressing and moving crowd that brought out the worst. Very few people seemed to understand this…

It had been well over three years since the last panic attack—that time triggered by a real event, when a gang fight had gotten a little too close for comfort. The gunshots had set him off, into a flashback of terrifying proportions—all while he was in the midst of a crowd. He had already been uneasy in crowds, but that had been the tipping point. From there, it had been weeks before he went out anywhere, and even more weeks before he allowed himself to be manipulated into moving through the city.

He could manage crowds now, but it still sent a pang of unease through him. Especially in _this_ airport.

_Anything_ could happen here.

Gripping the handle of his suitcase with only a _little_ more force than necessary, Tom wove his way through the people, heading toward his destination of freedom. Or perhaps it was merely another prison of school… With a smirk worthy of the most devious of history teachers-to-be, Tom Harris pressed onward, still not knowing what had urged him to return to the forsaken city of London.

* * *

_"Subject #2293 has arrived. Team Alpha, proceed with implantation. You have the green light, I repeat, you have the green light."_

* * *

She felt like a foreigner in her own homeland.

The sights were familiar and foreign, as well as comforting and strange. Things had obviously changed, but in some ways it seemed that she hadn't changed. Her hometown had changed and left her behind. It seemed that after spending more than five years in San Francisco, attempting to switch back to the way everything had been before seemed like a step in the wrong direction. An impossibility, with things so different.

The decision to change everything hadn't been sudden though.

More than two years earlier, her dad had suggested that going back for schooling would be wise. Since then, she had been determined to go back. To London, if at all possible. After all, she needed to face the past at one point—else there would forever be a city mocking her in the back of her mind. A place where she didn't dare go. It had been a lot of work, to pull her grades up to the expected bar, but she had been determined. _Stubborn_, was what her mum had called it…

After being rejected from five different institutions, she almost gave up on her dream. Until the letter had come in the mail. Wrapped in an unassuming envelope, she had thought it would be another rejection letter. Instead, it had been the University College London accepting her into their _Psychology and Language Sciences_ program. That had thrown everyone into a flurry of arrangements, and now, months later, she was finally walking on what she could consider _home turf_.

Of course, in the flurry of activity, she had forgotten the reason she, _personally_, hadn't flown in over five years.

It wasn't until she was at the airport, going through security that she remembered. This was where _he_ had disappeared. Before that fateful night. Perhaps she would have seen _him_ again—if his demons hadn't caught up with him, when his luck finally ran out. Now though, after five years, it wasn't so much the loss of _him_ that bothered her, but rather the knowledge that it could happen to _anyone_. There was the facsimile of safety, but no true safety. Once up in the air, anything could happen.

In all honesty, she hadn't relaxed at all during the flight. Thoughts were constantly flying through her head. _Her_ flight could be the next one to make it on to the news. She would _never_ see her parents again—separated by something so complicated as those that wished harm upon those that had wronged them.

She hadn't slept at all.

The last stretch, going between the airport in New York and that of London, had been the hardest.

It didn't help any that the flight attendant had guessed her reasons for anxiety—apparently, it was a rather common problem—and had tried to reassure her with the words 'the government has it under control.' Although she cringed away from the thought, those few words brought back all the insecurities of her teenage years.

It had been years since she had truly thought about _him_, but the mere reference to the security services brought it all back—and a righteous anger on her part. After all, it had been _their_ fault—inadvertently, but really, who was counting?—that _he_ had gone to the lengths to leave the country. If he hadn't been flying, everything would have been fine. Everything would have been _normal_.

Now that she was on the ground though, that anger had been replaced with sheer exhaustion. Jetlag would to hit hard, soon. She still had to clear customs and immigration, find her belongings—that tended to wander when one was on a prolonged trip—hail a cab that was willing to take her to the other side of the city for a reasonable price, and move into her awaiting flat—and hopefully not find that she had a roommate. There was too much to do, and her stomach was a churning pile of nerves after the not so subtle reminders that had been thrown at her over the past handful of hours.

It was only as she got further away from the newest terminal—and the ominous bronze placard that listed all the names of those who died during that terrible bombing—that she started to feel at least a _little_ relaxed. So much had happened in the intervening years, and _really_, it was a one in a million chance that anything like _that_ would happen again, _and_ involve her.

As the distance increased, she almost felt like she could laugh at her own paranoia. It seemed like Alex had rubbed off on her after all. But… _she_ was Sabina Pleasure, and _nothing_ would to stop her, not even ghosts from the past. London was her hometown, and after so many years away, it felt good to be home.

* * *

_"Team Beta, you are cleared for go. Careful though, we don't want them thinking they have two."_

* * *

**A/N: So after so many months… I've finally churned out something new. This ****_is_**** a short story. Six chapters, and none of them are extremely long. I'll be posting it****_ slowly_**** over the next couple of weeks, as I find time to polish it. There won't be much action here, so sorry if that's what you're looking for.  
**

**If you haven't read ****_Starting Anew_****… I highly recommend you do that first, as this story would horribly ruin the ending. Technically though, you ****_could_**** read this as a standalone, but once again, why ruin the suspense for my other story?**

**Drop a comment, and let me know what you think! (And sorry if there are any weird turns of phrases, I'm in the midst of learning another language by immersion. Chances to read/write/speak/think English are few and far between.)**

**S.B.L.**


	2. PART 2

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Though I take the compliment that you pay me by thinking that I might actually own this work, I do not. Believe me; I would make sure to publish it under my own name._

_All rights belong to Anthony Horowitz._

_As usual…_

**PART 2: World's Collide**

* * *

As the unfamiliar corridors of the rebuilt terminal fell away, Sabina found that despite the jetlag, she was feeling excited to be back in her old hometown. Familiar sights and sounds… though things had changed. There were still things that brought up unwanted memories, but she had no doubt that newer, more exciting memories would be eager to fill it up. _Quickly._

Not to mention the possibility of finding old familiar faces in the midst of the crowd. _Old friends._ People she hadn't seen in years, and had only kept in contact through the barest of messages. Of course, the likelihood of finding any of them at the university was almost nil. Unlike her, most would already be in the working world… unless they were pursuing a higher degree.

If it hadn't been for their move, and all the things associated with changing _everything_, she would have likely been in exactly the same spot.

However, she liked to think that the extra couple of years had given her a chance to get her head screwed on straight. There had been too much going on during the last few years of _high school_. Looking back on it, it felt like she had been quite naïve and immature. She had learned quite a few lessons since then, and liked to think that it was _all_ for the better.

Shaking off her introspective thoughts, she pressed on toward her destination.

_Customs and immigration._

Really, from traveling as a child and teenager, _that_ place was the bane of her existence. If there were any way to skip through it… life would be so much easier. It wasn't so much the queues there—though those sometimes lasted _forever_—it was more the slew of unfriendly memories associated with the wait. Having a journalist as a father meant that there were times when they took… _unusual_ family vacations. Mostly before she had reached secondary school. Those unusual trips though had often led to her being singled out in foreign airports—because she was the easiest target.

It didn't help that on one particular occasion, it looked like her passport—and visa—had never made it back into her bag after going through customs in the last country… _That_ had been a royal nightmare.

Now though, she _knew_ she had everything with her. Her passport—declaring that she was still a UK citizen—and the slew of forms that she had to fill out. Hopefully, they would see that and decide that she was unimportant, and just wave her through. After all, she had a life to live, and unnecessary hang-ups in the airport were just going to get on her nerves.

Caught up in her thoughts, she missed the visual and auditory warning until it was almost too late. A shadow at the last minute caused her to look up, only to stumble as someone crossed her path just a little too close. She sighed, before glancing down at her watch—it was taking a bit of time to navigate the terminal. Somehow, they both kept their footing, though the woman just shot her a frosty glance as Sabina mumbled an apology.

Sabina rolled her eyes, before continuing on—lest she hold up the rush of traffic even more.

Once she was standing at the back of the customs and immigration line, she rechecked her documents. Everything was in pristine order, including all the annoying forms that were supposed to be filled out with every little detail. As she waited for her turn in the line, she couldn't help but glance at the other people. Travelers from all over the world, and judging by the accents and languages—and _dress_—there was likely a representative of almost every continent.

London truly was a melting pot…

By the time she had reached the front of the line, any anxiety had fallen away. This was the last, formal, step before she was truly back on home ground. It would only take a few minutes, and then all she had to do was make her way to her awaiting flat.

She gave the immigration office a bright smile as she handed over her documents with a small sigh of relief. Almost there.

* * *

_"All teams return to base. Operation successful."_ There was a slight cough. _"We'll take it from here."_

* * *

Tom wasn't sure when everything had gone to hell. Absolutely bat-crazy hell. He had been sitting in the same place for the past four hours—or so he guessed, he didn't actually have a watch anymore—and nothing had changed. The cell he had been unceremoniously shoved into was still as poorly lit as it had been at the beginning, and the chair was just as hard. Even the second and third chairs were just as hard. He had tried them. The only small mercy was that he wasn't handcuffed—anymore.

The room had very little to offer. Just a couple of chairs and a low table. The room was split down the middle by a row of bars—similar to what he would expect to see in a normal police lockup—and there was another set of chairs and table on the other side. And a door leading out. He could only guess that it was used when there were more than a couple of people locked up. He just got the whole space to himself…

Though exactly why he was locked up in the first place… he wasn't entirely sure.

Everything had been proceeding normally. Or so he thought. The people around him seemed normal enough, after all. No one had given him any strange glances, no doubled back looks of suspicion, and even the customs and immigration officer had been friendly enough. _That_ was a change—so perhaps that should have been a blaring signal.

There hadn't been a single warning sign that everything was going to come to a crashing halt. There hadn't been any abnormally long pauses in looking through his paperwork, or even in entering the information into the computer. Nothing whatsoever.

The next thing he had known though, someone was coming up behind him, and asking him if he would please step to the side. They claimed that there was some sort of difficulties with his passport—easily cleared up—but said that he would be more comfortable waiting in a side room.

It seemed routine enough, so despite the tiny bit of apprehension from the request—after all, what could possibly go wrong?—he had gone along with it and followed the waiting person.

It was all a bit of a farce though. The moment he had gone through the doors, and they were shut behind him, they were handcuffing him. Some nonsensical words about collusion with government secrets flew above his head, and he was too shocked to do anything. It was only when they were nearly to his current cell that he had started his mantra that he was just an incoming student at the University College London. Nothing more.

They hadn't cared.

All they had done in the intervening hours was to take off the handcuffs. They hadn't even responded to his demands for water… All of his belongings had been confiscated, and he wasn't actually sure how likely it was that he would see everything again. No one was saying anything. It left him mysteriously in the dark.

With a sigh, he let his head drop into his hands. Jerry was going to start wondering soon. He was supposed to call once he got to his flat. He _should_ have been there already. Then again… if Jerry was as besotted with his wife as was expected… he probably wouldn't think about Tom until later the next day. That meant that there were _plenty_ of hours for things to go horribly, horribly wrong.

It probably didn't help things at all that he harbored a great mistrust of the security services in the UK… they were _always_ screwing things up. Case and point, his current position.

"I demand… you tell me… what rights you have…" An unmistakably feminine voice drifted down the corridor outside Tom's cell. She sounded caught somewhere between furious and scared. Right about the same place he was at. "_That's_ not an explanation. That's just an excuse!"

The door on the other side of the bars swung open, and Tom nearly jumped up from his seat as a young woman was shoved into the same room. She turned on her escort—there was a distinct lack of handcuffs on her, he noted—fury etched into her stature.

"I don't care who you are. I _demand_ to speak with someone with _real_ authority."

The escort just threw her a blank stare—customary of almost every _suit_ that Tom had seen from a distance—before shutting the door with a sound of finality. She swore rather creatively, before pounding her fist on the door. Tom couldn't manage to hold back his snort of laughter, as she unknowingly copied his same actions from hours earlier.

The noise caused her to spin around, realizing for the first time that she had an audience. She sent him a furious glare through the bars. "And just who the hell do you think you are?"

He raised his hands in a placating manner. "Just someone else getting the cold shoulder from them. Banging around isn't going to do anything." He shrugged slightly, before leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. "Tried that for an hour. Those buggers wouldn't even bring me water when I was claiming to be dying of thirst."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, before moving toward the chair furthest away from him, giving him the impression that he was some sort of insect that she would rather have crushed under her foot.

_That_ was a rather uncomfortable feeling… Of course, his conspiracy theorist part of his brain was convinced that they had added her in, in the hopes of getting him to confess. _Not_ that there was anything to confess…

She gave him a very cursory glance, before jerking her head toward the door. "So what exactly did you do to get on their bad side?"

He shrugged, deciding not to give her anything more than the bare minimum. For now. "They haven't exactly been clear on that."

She let out a long sigh, before running a hand through her hair. "Well. This sucks."

Tom couldn't agree more.

* * *

_"How much longer?"_

_"A couple of hours. We'll send someone over."_

_"I assume you'll be in touch?"_

_"Of course."_

* * *

She couldn't believe this was happening.

And to top it all off, they had just thrown her into a cell with a random guy, who seemed to have as much clue about what was going on as she did. Okay, granted, there_ was_ the small security of the bars between them… but, really? She wondered if it was normal to throw unsuspecting strangers together without telling them what they had actually done wrong. She couldn't imagine that it was too serious—after all, would they really put two _security threats_ together if they thought something would happen?

Then again, she knew that the security service had done stupider things in its past…

The guy had been remarkably silent in the past hour. He seemed so… resigned to his fate, despite his insistence that he had no idea what he had done wrong. Granted… even she was a little put out of sorts by the whole ordeal. There was no telling what was coming next. Honestly though, she _had_ hoped for a little conversation though. He had clammed up almost immediately though.

With nothing better to do, however, she stared him down. Eventually he cracked —as well he should have after nearly an hour of full on staring.

"What do you _want?_" His question came out more as a desperate demand but she had to remind herself that this was—at the very least—well into his second hour in the cell. If his clothing was anything to go by, he had likely been in the room longer than that.

"Just curious." Somewhere in the intervening time, she had gained a disinterested exhaustion. She was relatively calm now—though the terrified part of her brain was still trying to break free—and had since curled up in the uncomfortable chair.

He scowled briefly, before looking away from her. "Of what?"

"Why you're here. Why I'm here, I guess…" She shrugged, continuing before her brief bravery abandoned her. "It seems rather strange that they put us together. You don't look like a terrorist."

That earned a muffled snort, before he looked at her with the most peculiar expression. "Got a lot of experience with those then, do you?" He shook his head, seeming to dismiss any sarcastic comment she could have come up with—not realizing that the nonchalance he had responded with had left her speechless. "I would bloody well hope I don't. Left the country to escape them…" He attempted to shrug it away, but she knew it meant more than that to him.

"Experience with terrorists?" The question slipped out before she could really think about it, and instantly regretted it. After all, she didn't feel like mentioning her own up-close experiences… "I'm sorry. That wasn't—"

He waved the apology aside. "It was a while ago. When I was in secondary." He shrugged again, but this time it belayed the tension in his shoulders that had crept up. "Terrorists attacked my school and I got caught in the crossfire. Ditched the country as soon as I was out of hospital. This is the first time I've been back." He laughed, in a self-depreciating way, waving his arm around the room. "And this is the wonderful welcome back that I get."

Without really thinking about it, Sabina found herself nodding ever so slightly. She had been thinking those same thoughts only a short while ago. What a _welcome home_… "If it's any consolation, I haven't exactly been back here after my own run in."

He sent her an appraising look. "You? Dabbling in the dark side?"

The barest hint of a smile crossed her face. Really, it wasn't a joking matter—and she suspected that he knew that. "No… Just…" She let her chin rest on her knees, feeling compelled to share a glimpse of her own dark past with a stranger in a cell. "I was kidnapped and… I was lucky to make it out unharmed. A while later, a friend of mine was killed by terrorists… I've been back to the country since, but never for very long, and never… _there_."

He nodded in understanding, before standing up and walking over toward her. He held out a hand through the bars in greeting. "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Relevant experiences aside, I'm Thomas Harris—but everyone calls me Tom."

She gave him a hesitant smile, before shaking his hand. "Sabina. Sabina Pleasure."

The reaction was completely unexpected.

Tom pulled away his hand as if he had been shocked. "What! Really?" He swore, before staring at her with a peculiar expression. "Sabina Pleasure, as in Edward Pleasure's daughter. Right?"

She nodded hesitantly. Usually, sudden realizations similar to that were… unfavorable. Especially since it seemed to be such a turnaround from his previous personality… Though what exactly he saw in her name, she wasn't sure. After all, he didn't seem like the fanatic type that often followed her father's work.

"Your family was the last ones to see _him_."

There was a familiar, yet ominous, emphasis on the last word that caused a sudden crushing sensation in her chest. It was an emphasis that she had used so often, just a couple of years earlier. She swallowed nervously, trying to belay the tension. "Wh-who?"

"My best friend. Alex Rider."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffy… (not really). I hope it wasn't too choppy ^_^ So Tom and Sabina finally meet (Honestly can't remember if they met in the books… but I have a logical explanation for why they haven't).**

**I'm thinking I'll update once a week, most likely on Sundays. This story ****_is _****complete, but I'm trying to edit and polish it in the midst of classes/exams/tours here. Unfortunately, this whole new language is making it a little difficult to work on anything in English—since my brain's constantly trying to translate into a myriad of languages…**

**Until next time!**

**S.B.L.**


	3. PART 3

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Nothing's changed. All rights still belong to Anthony Horowitz._

(For now… Muhahahaha!)

_(No, really. They're his.)_

**PART 3: Realizations**

* * *

He dropped back into his chair, muttering curses under his breath. It didn't take a genius to put everything together—especially with a last name as unique as hers. The blood draining out of Sabina's face had been more than enough to acknowledge the truth of his words.

It was _her_ family that Alex had left. Never to be seen alive again, oh so many years earlier.

Of course, that brought so many more factors into play that his mind was just spinning thinking about it. Firstly, he hadn't realized how much it would take just to say _his_ name—after all, it had almost become taboo since he received that final phone call, informing Tom of _his_ untimely demise (a random terrorist attack, of all things). Secondly, it brought into question just who had them now. Although at first it had seemed like a random glitch in the system, there were a handful of nefarious things that could be happening behind the scenes…

_Terrorists with grudges against the long dead spy…_

_Government officials that were intent on blackmailing the security service, by using Tom and Sabina's knowledge… _

_Or worse, the mastermind himself—the man _he_ had only described as cold, unforgiving, and _grey_—deciding that_ they_ were to be the country's next best kept secret…_

"You're Tom." The voice was quiet, meek, and brought his train of random thoughts to a crashing halt. "From… his school."

Suddenly, unsure of what to say, Tom just nodded. No matter what conspiracy theory he cooked up in his mind, there was no discounting the fact that they were irrevocably connected. Someone had a plan, and the two of them were at the heart of it.

"He used to talk about you all the time. And the football team…"

_That_ brought up old memories. The good ones that he hadn't thought about it such a long time. Italy had been his way of getting away—from both the good and the bad. He had done something different, so that he could replace the old that had been tearing him apart.

"You were a good friend. For… _putting up with_ all of that."

Tom shrugged. "Someone had to." He chewed on his lip for a moment, unconsciously letting the words slip out. "I'm assuming that was… _before_…"

"Yeah." She let out a long sigh. "Whatever happened in Egypt… it changed him, you know?"

He shook his head, because, no, he didn't know. He had gone to Italy not long after the… shooting, and though he had tried to contact _Alex_, there had never been any response. The phone had rung through. The emails had gone unanswered. Every attempt at communication had been ignored. He had only learned after that fateful day a glimpse of what really happened. _Alex_ had gone to live with the Pleasure's in America, stayed for a little while, before running away, and getting caught in the terrorist attack in London. A death much unworthy of the hero who he truly was.

"He was really withdrawn after Jack was killed. Quiet. Just not… himself." She shook herself, before looking at Tom apologetically. "Sorry. This trip has just… been bringing up bad memories."

"Yeah… I understand."

And although he barely knew her, Tom knew that they weren't just strangers anymore. They had both been through rough spots. They were both connected by a young, long since dead, boy, by the name of Alex Rider.

* * *

_"It's been hours…"_

_"We're sending someone in now."_

_"I'm assuming everything went according to plan, then?"_

_"…More or less… Someone will be coming soon."_

* * *

They had lapsed into a long silence, each to their own thoughts. Sabina was surprised by how quickly she had opened up about Alex. Really, since the funeral—in which there were very few attendants that weren't complete strangers to the boy—she had kept from mentioning him. She had _thought_ that the memories were too fresh. It seemed that now, after several years, though it still affected her, it wasn't to the same extent.

She had moved on, as was expected.

She could remember more than just those last few weeks and hours when he had lived with them. There were good moments too.

And Tom… Tom had been the one person other than Jack that Alex had seemed to actually trust. His best friend from childhood… and one that had seemed to pop up in almost every story he had of growing up.

Somehow though, they had never met. Not for a lack of trying on Alex's part. Every time had seemed to be thwarted somehow. Now, it seemed that after hearing about each other from another person, they were finally getting a chance to connect—just without the pivotal person in their lives.

Once the distraction of rehashing memories of Alex faded, her thoughts returned to the present situation. So far, it seemed that they were content to put her in a cell and forget about her—and Tom, apparently. It seemed rather out of character—after all, prisoners were supposed to have rights—but not so strange that she thought someone else was in charge. No, it was still _definitely _the security services…

Sabina let out a long sigh, before turning her attention back to Tom. It had been nearly another hour, bringing it up to three hours for her, and four, if not more, hours for him. He was starting to get the stressed out look that tends to happen when people run their hand through their hair too often.

"You okay?" She asked him, and noted how he flinched ever so slightly.

"Ye-yeah…" He shuddered slightly, before seeming to come back to himself a little more, and running a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up even more than it had before. "I just… don't do well with suspense anymore."

She nodded slightly, and although her curiosity was piqued, she knew better than to press. Instead, she followed another train of thought. "What brought you back to London, anyway?"

"University. They had the program I wanted, so… thought I would come back and face my demons." He shrugged. "Had to do it sometime, or I would never want to come back. And _that_ would just raise too many questions."

Sabina smiled slightly. "Yeah…"

"You? Why'd you come back? I thought America was supposed to be pretty good."

"Oh, you know. Demons and all that." It was her turn to shrug. "And university seemed better here. I never quite got used to the way they do things there… So I worked hard, applied, and several years later, I got accepted."

"Where?"

"UCL."

Tom paused and stared at her, mouth gaping.

"What?"

"UCL?" His voice cracked, ever so slightly, on the final sound.

"Yes…"

"Ha!" He let out a bark of laughter. "Well, at least I'll know someone there now. Shared experiences, and all that."

She smiled, catching on to his meaning. "Well… I guess waiting those extra years didn't hurt anything. What are you taking?"

"History, Politics, and Economics. It's a combined degree. History's really my thing, and I'm hoping to teach once I'm finished. What abou—" He broke off, and stared at the door, seeming to listen to something.

At first, Sabina heard nothing. Then, in the sudden silence, the soft scuff of footsteps coming down the hall toward their door became clear. _Someone_ was coming toward them. Whether they would stop or not was the question…

The footsteps became louder; the paces not rushed, but not slow either.

Sabina couldn't help the flinch that came as the door was unlocked and then opened. A man stepped in, taking in not only the room, but also their expressions and postures with one sure glance. He seemed to both acknowledge and ignore the fact that they had been left—and ignored—for so many hours. He was younger than the security officials that had pulled her out of line, but didn't exactly look new to the job. Though he was probably still a grunt of some sort…

"If you would follow me." There was no request in his voice, just a stated command and further impressed in her mind that it was the security service up to their usual tricks. By now though, she just wanted it to be over. To be able to go back to her normal life and start school _normally_.

It seemed that Tom was thinking along the same lines, and didn't say anything as he stood up and left the room. When the lock on her door came open, she was quick to follow. After all, even if she _had_ only just met Tom, she knew him by name. There was a little comfort in that familiarity.

And this was _only_ the first couple of hours back in her home country…

The man led them down the hall she had come in—not even bothering to tell them who he was, or what was happening. They just followed in silence, taking some turns that were different from when she came in. After the final turn, the hall came to a rather nondescript door that led through what looked like the security head offices in the airport. There were very few people around, and if anything, it looked rather deserted. The few people that saw them though barely gave them a second glance.

Instead of stopping at one of the offices though, the man led them through— surreptitiously flashing some sort of important looking badge at what seemed to be the front desk. Somehow, at the same time, his body language made it clear that if they tried anything stupid he would be able to get them before they got anywhere.

The few moments they stepped outside did little more than send a light breeze through Sabina's hair, before she briskly motioned into the back seat of a waiting black car.

_How cliché…_

She had never thought that her first steps back on real English soil would be while she was arrested… but it seemed that there was a first time for everything.

Tom slid in nervously beside her, only sparing the briefest of glances her way, before their escort got into the front. Another man—who it seemed would be their driver—joined them as well. Two men in dark suits just seemed to bode bad news…

It wasn't until they were well out on the roads away from the airport that the first man turned around to look at them. This time though, he seemed a little warmer than his earlier chilly exterior.

"I apologize for the wait. There was a… bit of an emergency that arose and demanded to be taken care of." He shrugged ever so slightly before sighing. "I do hope that Heathrow's finest wasn't too terribly bad." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice this time—and Sabina was _sure_ she wasn't just imagining it.

"Knowing Heathrow, they were probably just dropped in there." The drive spoke up, startling Sabina. "And monitored for potential activity."

"Hmm…" The first man nodded slightly, before giving them an apologetic glance. "I really am sorry for all the subterfuge. Things usually aren't this complicated."

"Or sudden." The driver said.

"Or sudden… But… well… we'll wait until we arrive to truly explain things. But I suppose introductions should be in order. I'm Ben Daniels, and this is… Braden." Sabina picked up on the hesitation, and wondered just what it actually meant. "Don't worry about what happened at the airport—as far as those personnel are concerned, that was a training run put on by yours truly." He gave them an exaggerated wink. "You both played the part of terrorist and confused civilian perfectly."

Sabina's jaw dropped. "What?" They had… they had… _used_ them?

"Yes, Miss Pleasure. But don't worry too much about it." His expression grew disturbingly serious. "There is much we have to discuss." He turned his back on them then, making it clear that conversation wasn't going to continue.

Sabina knew that asking more questions wasn't going to get her anywhere. She now knew _who_ had set this entire thing up. Though for why, she honestly couldn't fathom. She was fairly certain that she was too old for _them_ to use for their schemes and she thought that they had learned their lesson—the hard way—with Alex.

Tom merely sent an uncertain look in Sabina's direction, before returning his gaze out the window. She knew better than to expect anything from him. He was as in the dark as she was. They had no information and they didn't even have a chance of coming across anyone who would be helpful.

It was with a resigned group that exited the car into an alley that looked rather run down. However, it seemed that it was more than what first appeared, because the man who called himself Ben entered a long string of numbers into a hidden number pad. The number pad unlocked the door, and they entered into what seemed to be the back hallways of an upscale business office.

"You should feel special." Ben's earlier good humor seemed to have returned. "Very few civilians get to come in through this entrance. Well… actually… few civilians come into this building at all. So, uh… make sure not to look too out of place, or you'll have a ton of people following us around that _really_ don't need to know what's going on."

Sabina raised an eyebrow, biting her lip ever so slightly. Well… that gave her exactly _no_ idea how she was supposed to act. Calm and collected might be all well and good, but this was… _different._ They hadn't exactly introduced just _whom_ they were representing …

Ben led the way through the halls, occasionally giving a subdued nod toward the few people they passed. No one bothered to give them a second glance—not even with Braden following nearly on Tom's heels. She almost _wished_ that she could shout for help, but really, they were all working for the same boss. They wouldn't do anything.

When they were shown into a regular office though, Sabina couldn't help but feel a little thrown. While she wasn't sure what she had been expecting, _this_ wasn't quite it. It was a completely normal office, with a desk—complete with photos of who she assumed to be family and friends—, an out of place set of curtains, and a couple of comfortable looking chairs.

"Please, have a seat." Ben waved to the chairs in front of the desk, while Braden shut the door behind them. "Once again, I apologize for making you wait for so long. This really was much more complicated than it should have been, and a… unforeseeable emergency caused us to rearrange everything." He sat back in his chair, observing them with a careful glance. "Out of curiosity though, have you figured out who we are?"

Sabina shared a long glance with Tom. She was fairly certain that she knew who he represented, but wondered if Tom had put the clues together. Tom surprised her though.

"MI6." He said the name with such distaste that Sabina was surprised that Ben didn't flinch back. Instead, all he did was nod knowingly.

"Yes. And I understand where your dislike comes from."

_That_ pulled her up short. As far as she had known, Alex was a government secret. A person who didn't truly exist in the world of paperwork—or really, in any other place. This man was not one she had heard of before, nor was he like anyone that Alex had described. Of course, that was more than five years ago… things could have changed, and she wouldn't have known.

"First things first though, and then I ask that you simply hear me out." He pushed two stacks of paper across the table toward them. "Before anything more can be discussed, both of you have to sign the OSA, the Official Secrets Act. If for any reason you decide not to sign this, our meeting will end here, and you will be returned to your previous country with your student status revoked. Don't take this as a threat from us, but instead remember that we are doing this for your safety. I can't say anything more than that, without breaking the OSA myself. Miss Pleasure, I know that you've signed this before, but that was for a very specific occasion—this is a more general signing and will cover nearly all events from here on out. Mister Harris…" Ben smiled ever so slightly. "I realize that this is all new to you, but believe me when I say that for both of you, signing is in your best interest."

Sabina looked at the stack of paper and knew what was going to come next. There was no way that she would be able to walk away from this without looking back every day and wondering what she had missed out on. No matter the danger—because dealing with MI6 was just a bad idea—she would have to sign the paper. After all, if she didn't, she wasn't going to be allowed to attend university. Her plans would have to change, and she didn't want that. She had worked too hard for this.

Though she wasn't entirely sure how not signing the OSA would cause her student status to be revoked—after all, they were both _citizens_ of the country—she wouldn't put anything past MI6…

She had little choice but to sign the paper and it seemed that Tom had little choice in the matter as well.

When they both pushed the completed and signed papers back across the table, Ben took them with a relaxed smile, before handing them over to Braden—who took them out of the room.

"Thank you. You don't know… well, I expect you will, just what that means. I assure you, good things and not bad ones. This is all for your protection." Ben leaned back in the chair, before leaning across the desk. "This will all become very clear to you both in a few minutes, but for now, I think it is important to say that this is all very secret. There are still people out there that would kill for this information and the only reason you two are being… _informed_, is because your lives would otherwise be at risk. That… and you would… _notice_. Probably not right away, but eventually. And that would be very, _very_, bad."

"So… what exactly did we just sign our lives away to?" Tom asked, with a heavy note of suspicion in his voice.

Ben laughed. "Believe me, this is good, not bad… Just give it about…" He glanced down at his watch. "A few more minutes. Then, you'll understand. I promise."

Sabina wasn't entirely sure she was ready to believe that. With all of the somewhat disastrous seeming lead up, this was coming across as some sort of great secret. Something that wasn't meant to see the light of day. She wasn't entirely sure that this was something she wanted to be a part of, but it seemed that she had little choice in the matter. It was a disturbing thought.

"Can you at least explain why we were stuck at the airport?" Tom asked. "And why we would be sent back if we hadn't signed?"

Ben sighed, and shook his head slowly. "That, unfortunately, would take much too long to explain. As I said though, there was an emergency—related to this entire situation—that came up rather suddenly, at about the same time as your arrival. We had to change plans rather quickly, so that we could deal with the… issue—thus you turning into the training run for the security service at the airport." He shrugged ever so slightly, as if that didn't actually matter. "I'll make a note so that an actual team goes through in a couple of weeks. We don't want them getting out of practice."

"But that relates to attending university here, how?" The question slipped out before Sabina thought about it, and found that she didn't actually care. She wanted answers.

"It doesn't. The reason we brought you here in the first place does though. There are… _things_." He waved his hand, as if the terminology was unimportant. "Things that your arrival could very well mess up and place both yourselves and others into danger. Simply by being in the wrong place could set things into action that you never wanted to be a part of. Believe me though, you'll understand soon enough."

Sabina frowned. That really wasn't an explanation. It made no sense, after all. What could they—being her and Tom—possibly know, say, or do, that would put someone in danger. It was as if _they_ were the dangerous ones in this situation. Dangerous enough that their own government would send them away, just to keep someone—_or something_—safe.

A knock on the door disrupted her from her musing.

"Ah, early. As usual." Ben had a fond smile on his face, one that seemed out of place compared with his earlier expressions. "Come in!"

A young man came in the door, and Sabina couldn't help but send him a distrustful glance. However, he didn't seem to act the part of even a lackey at MI6. His expression was unusually open for one there, as well. He looked caught between exhaustion, excitement, and apprehension. As if he were walking to the executioners block. And really… it was rather rare to see someone her own age with a cane that he clearly used—and it wasn't white either, so he wasn't blind.

With a cautious smile that seemed oddly familiar, he smiled at them. "Hey guys."

It was the voice that got her. It was strange, yet familiar. It was a voice that tickled in the back of her memory. A voice that Tom clearly knew, because he all but yelled out a name that she had long since buried.

"Alex!"

There was another hesitant smile. "Hi?"

* * *

**A/N: Cliffy! Kind of… I think you already know what's going to come next. It may—or may not—have some of Alex's perspective though. We shall see. We're about halfway through now, and that was probably the longest chapter. Almost forgot to update today… And did you notice Braden in there? Hmm? Yep, he's still around…**

**It's November, therefore NaNoWriMo. I'm writing an AR fic in Spanish. Once the month is over, I may or may not translate it to English and post it. Depends on how good it is, and if the plot actually goes somewhere…**

**Let me know what you think!**

**S.B.L.**


	4. PART 4

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Since I haven't read Russian Roulette yet, I can't possibly be Anthony Horowitz… Sigh…_

**PART 4:** Back From the Dead

* * *

_Karma…_

Forget SCORPIA. Forget the other terrorist groups that wanted him dead (though there were less now than five years ago). Forget that it _had_ been four years since he truly went head to head with anyone, and that the balance should have evened out by now…

Karma was what would do him in in the end. Because it always seemed to pop up when he least expected it—but really should have. Now though… he just felt like death warmed over.

Of course, there were perfectly logical reasons for it, though _why_ it had to hit _that_ day of all days. However, the next day, or even the day before would have been _perfect_—if there really was a perfect timing for something like this.

Granted, he should have seen it coming from a long way off. Both Ben _and_ Luke had been telling him for days that he wasn't doing anything to help his situation. Little sleep. Irregular eating habits. Nightmares. General stress. It was like someone was reading the recipe for perfect seizure conditions, and he had fallen into the trap without even looking back once.

Although it had been several weeks since the last series of seizures, he was, by all reckoning due for another set. It hadn't improved much since he had gone back to school, still missing swaths of classes because he was so exhausted and brain numb by the time the seizures finished. There was a reason he was only attending the University on a part-time scheme…

_Maybe I can pass it off as another kidnapping attempt…_ He shook himself, knowing that _that_ definitely wasn't the answer to his problems.

It had been a shock when only two weeks earlier Ben had informed him that two of his oldest friends were returning to London. It was a big city; there was a low probability that they would even see each other. He hadn't understood the implications until later. They had both been accepted to UCL. The same university he attended.

By the time the news filtered down to him, MI6 had already made their action plan—a fact that he had grumbled about for several days. MI6 was planning to reveal him—despite his protests that such an action wasn't really necessary. _They_ weren't even in the same year or career! However, his own security was supposedly more important than his _juvenile _wishes.

Since starting at UCL, he had made a few notable changes to his personal history that made it harder for his _past_ to inadvertently stumble across him. Very few realized that he had changed his name right before starting university, and the few that did, seemed to acknowledge that it was a long overdue change. What most didn't know, was the change in all the records that had gone along with it as well. School records, living history, parental information… _Everything_ had been changed all in the name of protecting himself.

Now with the presence of people from his _past,_ there was the likelihood that a few comments in the wrong place could compromise his safety. Though really, how much he needed it now, he wasn't entirely sure. He hadn't had someone actively trying to kill him in… nearly two years. It seemed that the front was holding up rather well…

Looking back on it all, Alex wondered where he had missing the glaring signals. It was all a great big trigger for higher stress levels—something that he was _supposed_ to avoid. However, it wasn't like there was a book that recommended methods for coming back from the supposed dead, and reintroducing yourself to your friends. After all, the dead were supposed to stay just that. _Dead._

"Err… Alex?" A hand touched his shoulder, and he couldn't help the startle reaction that followed. Seizures made him touchy… "Ben just messaged me to say they were in the building."

Alex swallowed. It seemed that the time was there. _Where's a good kidnapper when you need one…?_ "Okay…" He still wasn't feeling well. In fact, he had a sinking suspicion that the seizures weren't done with him for that day. They had taken up the nasty habit over the past year of sneaking back for a second attack on far too many occasions. "Guess that's my cue to get myself together then."

Next to him, Luke leaned over and caught his gaze. "You _don't_ have to stay long. Keep it short and sweet." He patted the bed with a grin. "This bed'll be right here waiting for you."

A hint of a smile crossed Alex's face, before shaking his head. He had put himself through enough already—he wasn't going to back out at the last moment. After all, they had thought he was dead for nearly five years. The least that his friends deserved was an opportunity to tell him—to his face—that they never wanted to see him again. Because, what else could they want? He had deserted them. Ditched when it became too much. Left them mourning over someone who wasn't dead. He had done nothing—all in the name of protecting them. "They deserve more than that."

Luke's lips pressed into a thin line, but he refrained from saying anything more. They had argued about this off and on for the past couple of days. To be honest though, Alex was glad he didn't press, because he wasn't sure he had the energy to carry on an intelligent argument. After all, he was barely functioning at fifty percent.

Alex sighed, before pushing himself up off the bed in MI6's infirmary. It had been his crashing place for the last handful of hours, having been deposited there once Ben had carefully rearranged all their premade plans. He had thrown everything into chaos, just by having a _simple_ seizure.

Luke caught him under the elbow, giving him a hand until the initial dizziness wore off. The seizure had been no worse than usual, meaning that provided nothing more happened, the after effects would probably last for about a day or so. Which was good, since classes would be starting up again in just over a week, and really, his classmates were understanding—they had learned rather quickly that he had _fragile health_—but even they would wonder a little if he missed the first days of class.

He sighed again, but didn't comment at Luke's inquiring look. Instead, he struggled to get his shoes on and make himself look at least slightly presentable. A little better than death warmed over… He settled for a scowl at the mirror, since there really wasn't anything he could do about the way his skin looked whiter than paper or the fact that the shadows under his eyes that had slowly been growing were now impossible to miss.

Luke's face loomed over his shoulder in the small bathroom a couple minutes later. "Braden just came by. They've got the papers signed."

Alex swallowed. It was time. Part of him had been hoping that they'd be stubborn and refuse to sign. Then he _wouldn't_ have to see them. That was just wishful thinking though… "Now or never."

Luke gave him an exasperated look. "Do you want company?"

He shook his head. Better not to overwhelm them.

"Take your time going up then, okay?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother."

Luke gave him _the look_, patented by older brothers everywhere.

"Yeah, sure. Can't go faster than my one speed, you know."

Luke snorted. "Yeah… which is _'get there as quickly as possible, leaving no room for injuries.'_"

Alex gave Luke a rueful grin. "Yeah, well… you know me. Always getting into the worst of it."

"You'll be fine."

Alex just shrugged, before grabbing his cane from beside the bed. Although for the most part he got around without the extra support, he had gotten used to the safety it provided him—thanks to Smithers upgrades. After the seizures though… it just provided another level of security and independence. It was less of an actual need and more of a habit most other days.

With one last sigh of resignation, Alex started to make his way to Ben's office—where his former best friends waited. Who knew what kind of reception he was going to get…

* * *

It really was a bad sort of day when he was actively hoping for some kind of uproar in the usually calm workplace. Merely because he knew that if something happened, he'd be able to put off the inevitable meeting… However, despite the fact that he was within the heart of MI6 headquarters, there were no explosions, fights, or suddenly convenient kidnappings. Just the knowing gazes from the few people that still knew him around the place.

Really, there were still quite a few that knew a little about him—though they didn't know about his past. He had stopped needing an escort a while ago, but they still remembered him—and some of the new ones as well, since he inevitably dropped in on their training at least once.

Of course, very few actually understood why he looked so shaky.

By the time he reached Ben's door, he had a white knuckled grip on his cane. He had already rehashed numerous versions of how it could all go down—the worst of which were from his nightmares. He honestly didn't see how Ben and Luke could think that everything would be fine in the end. _They_ would be _so_ angry with him…

When he hesitated outside the door, it was only the minute trembling in his legs that made him push onward. He was reaching his limit of energy, and the pounding in his head was picking up again. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, only that there was a sudden spike in his headache that convinced him to get moving.

_A recipe for disaster…_

He rolled his shoulders, trying to belay the tension that was working itself through his muscles. After all, it wouldn't do to let them know just how keyed up he was about this meeting. Pulling on the most natural and neutral expression he could manage, he pushed open the door and stepped in.

_Tom and Sabina._

He hadn't expected his breath to catch in his throat. He hadn't expected the sudden pain at seeing the familiar faces—ones that he had only seen in his nightmares for the past five years. Their expressions were blank and waiting—not hostile like he had expected. But that almost hurt him more.

He swallowed, trying to pull up the calm façade again, but this time it wasn't working. His expression was caught somewhere in the middle. "Hey guys."

Sabina stared at him with a blank expression, and he barely suppressed the automatic flinch. There was no recognition, no acknowledgement of who he was. Tom, on the other hand, seemed to know him right away—despite the changes.

"Alex!"

He tried to smile, though he felt like it came out more as a grimace rather than anything else. His hand tightened on the handle of his cane, before pushing the door closed behind him. "Hi?" He didn't dare use the door as support, no matter how much he wanted to.

Then came the reactions he had been expecting. Shook and confusion from Sabina, so strong that he wanted to simply melt into the walls. And the look of hurt and betrayal from Tom… it was copied almost exactly from his nightmares. A swooping sensation charged through his stomach, and Alex carefully blanked his face.

He wasn't allowed to run away.

He met Ben's eyes across the desk, but didn't bother saying anything. He had _predicted_ this, and no one had believed him.

"Have a seat, Alex." The man nodded toward the one remaining chair, positioned somewhere between the safety of behind the desk and the danger of his former friends.

Their expression of shock hadn't disappeared, so it was with a little bit of uncomfortableness that he walked away from the safety of the door and potential escape. He gathered together the remnants of his energy—it wouldn't do to look weak in front of them—and maneuvered across the open space of the room. He _felt_ their stares on his back though, making him all the more aware of how much he had changed in the last five years.

_They_ hated him. It was clear. He had abandoned them. And in his opinion, they were perfectly within their rights.

He sank down into the chair, but refused to show the weakness he was feeling. If nothing else, he wouldn't let them know how much this was affecting him.

_"Are you feeling up to this?"_ The question was soft, carrying just loud enough that Alex could hear it. Not that anyone else would understand the French… but that was unimportant.

He clenched his jaw. _"Of course."_ Not.

Ben sent him a frustrated glance. _"You're as pale as the wall. You don't have to stay the entire time."_

_"I'll be… fine."_ The truth of the matter was, he wasn't sure he'd be able to even make it out of the room. His energy levels were at an all-time low. He could have done with at least a night of sleep—and probably a good several cups of coffee (which he wasn't supposed to have in the first place). And the twitch that had picked up in his hands on the way up… probably wasn't a good sign.

Of course, if he fell asleep in the room—unlikely, but possible—then Ben would be more worried than usual. So he just had to keep himself together until they were done with the inquisition and he could sleep off the effects for the next couple of days.

"But… how… I mean…" Sabina was the first to regain her voice, this time filled with accusation. "They said… _They_ told us you were _dead_!"

Alex barely managed to suppress the flinch at the sheer vehemence directed toward him. This was exactly like his nightmares. His friends _hated_ him.

"Miss Pleasure, do please sit down." The exasperated note in Ben's voice told Alex that this wasn't the first time his friends had expressed their unique stubbornness. Alex had _tried_ to explain beforehand though. After all, _they hated him_. "I realize that you may have a lot of… _unexpressed emotions_ about this topic, but I assure you that _attacking him_ won't do anything for you except make a lot of powerful people angry."

Alex blinked, wondering when Sabina had gotten off her chair, looking for all the world like she wanted to throttle him. She sat with little grace, fixing a fierce glare on Ben.

"And I suppose you pretend that you're _protecting_ him." Tom spat out. "I _know_ what happened before. He had prospects and MI6 ruined them."

Alex's heart jumped into his throat. _That_ didn't fit with his nightmares. He was supposed to hate Alex. Not be angry on his behalf… "It's not like that anymore, Tom." It was the first thing he had said to his friends, and knew immediately that his words weren't believed. He just wanted to get to the part where they said that they hated him for leaving and pretending to die and that they didn't want to see him ever again. Then… life would be able to continue as usual.

"_Sure._"

"It's not." Ben insisted. "Let me at least explain before you try jumping to too many conclusions."

Alex heard a sharp huff from Sabina, but she didn't say anything. Alex himself just stared at his hands, catching bits and pieces of what Ben said, as he tried to explain Alex's last couple of years in as few sentences as possible. It all seemed rather disjointed to Alex's brain, but then, Ben seemed to know what he was doing.

_"_—_hid on the streets_—_"_

_"_—French kid_—_"__

_"—he lived with me."_

_"—terrorist threat—"_

"—at UCL now."

Alex felt like he was swimming up a long tunnel, and he shook his head, wincing when it only served to aggravate his headache. His friends were both still glaring. They didn't believe Ben. _Or him_.

"And now what, he's a normal student?" The biting sarcasm in Sabina words brought Alex back to himself for a moment, catching onto the topic at hand. It brought back just where he had been the last time she had seen him—in the midst of a depression so deep that his only escape had been to leave the country. Of course she didn't believe that he could possibly be normal again.

"Yes… more or less."

Something told Alex that Ben hadn't mentioned his ongoing medical problems, and he wasn't sure if he was thankful for that or not.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you."

Alex sighed, and opened his eyes, not realizing they had closed in the first place. The others seemed to have forgotten his presence too. "This is my second year at UCL." The words took more energy than he had expected and he had to struggle to pull together the remainder. "I've been studying part-time in the Linguistics program. My _health_ doesn't permit full-time." His lips curled oddly, remembering the old excuse for not attending school regularly. _His health_. Funnily enough, this time it was true. "I swear."

From the unamused expression on both of their faces, Alex knew that he was just fighting an uphill battle. He honestly wasn't sure why he was even trying. His dreams had been telling him the answer for years now. He had lied to them too much, and now… there was just irreparable damage.

Soon, they too would be gone from his life forever.

* * *

**A/N: Here's the latest installment, along with a heavy dose of Alex-angst… Just two more chapters to go (because I said this was a short little thing), and really the next chapter should really put a wrap on it, more or less. ^_^**

**Let me know what you think in the comments!**

**S.B.L.**


	5. PART 5

**_Disclaimer:_**_ If I were Anthony Horowitz, would I really be posting on a fanfiction website where I'm not paid for my work, when I could be making handfuls of money?_

_Yeah… didn't think so. This all belongs to that dude._

**PART 5: A Little Understanding**

* * *

It was impossible to believe.

Her mind was convinced it was a trick.

But no, he was clearly sitting there in front of them, as real as the chair she was sitting on. He sounded just like he used to—though a little more mature, since it seemed his voice had finally cracked. His behavior though… it was so different from before. Gone was the boy that she had once known as stubborn and headstrong. That had disappeared before he came to live with them, but the absence now was all the more shocking. As well, the boy who had lived with them for those few short weeks was gone as well. Now… he was caught somewhere between a world-weary stranger and a long forgotten friend.

_It hurt._

That had been unexpected. He seemed like a stranger forced into the body of someone so familiar. It was clear from his expression and stance that he was overworked. Exhausted. Nervous. She had watched as he withdrew even more when he had tried to pass off being normal. To someone naïve, it might have worked, but she knew the truth. MI6 had been using the excuse of _poor health_ for far too long.

Had he been pushed so far that he didn't care anymore? Didn't care that he was constantly risking life and limb for a country that would only use him until his usefulness wore off and then cast him away like a forgotten ragdoll? If he wasn't dead by then… And if that was the truth, then why was he even bothering to pursue an education when it was clear that he had no future except that which MI6 made?

"You're being deliberately obtuse!" Ben was clearly losing his patience, but he didn't even give them a chance to respond before he flung a handful of foreign words at Alex. Alex merely nodded now, not even glancing in their direction. Ben's lips pressed into a thin line, before turning an exasperated gaze on the two of them. "Alex is a _normal_ student. He's just incapable of attending class all the time—"

"And that's _normal_?" Tom burst out.

"What I'm _trying_ to say is—"

"No! How can you even consider this a normal arrangement?" Tom leapt up from the chair, seeming to warm to his topic. "Why are you _lot_ even pretending? It's not as if you have to keep it all hushed up now, is it? It's not _illegal_ anymore, after all. Forget the fact that you're just messing him up. _Nothing's changed in five years!_"

The momentary annoyance that flashed across Ben's face was almost terrifying. Perhaps even more terrifying, was the fact that Alex had heard all of that, and hadn't so much as flinched. Hadn't even glanced up when voices were raised.

"Sit."

The command was one that even Tom didn't hesitate to obey, flushing slightly red.

"Now I understand why…" Ben muttered to himself, before glancing at them with an expression mixed between annoyance and… _pity_? "_This_ is exactly why Alex said this was a bad idea."

Sabina shrank back in her seat, feeling slightly self-conscious.

"He knew that you were both just as stubborn as he is. You ignore the facts that are right in front of you. You aren't even _listening_ to what I've said—much less cared about whatever Alex had to add."

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Ben cut him off.

"No. Listen. Can't you see what's in front of you for once? Forget about your grudge against MI6 and whatever ways it's screwed you over or failed you. This is your _friend_, who you thought was _dead_ for the last five years." He leaned across the desk toward them, casting a short glance toward Alex who had yet to look up. "I realize that you're angry that this was kept from you, but believe me knowing the truth was dangerous. Now… you have to know, because you could say something wrong, and it would get back to the wrong person—until he ended up somewhere _leagues_ worse than where he's been so far. And let me tell you—I would rather be tortured _myself_ before I let anything more happen to him."

Sabina opened her mouth to say something, but shut it quickly. Clearly, you didn't cross this person when it came to Alex…

"Quit fussing about the little things and listen to me. He _was_ your friend."

Alex glanced up for the barest hint of a second, resignation crossing his face, before retreating back on himself again. Sabina wanted to reach out to him, to get his take on the matter, because he really didn't seem to be paying attention anymore.

What was it keeping Alex from attending school? After all, he was beyond the age of majority. He was capable of making his own decisions, though he didn't seem inclined to at the moment. From Ben's words and Alex's actions, Sabina would almost believe that he hadn't wanted this to happen. That he had _wanted_ to stay dead to them.

"_If_ that's true, then why now?" Tom's voice was skeptical, and he regarded Alex with a strange look on his face. "After all, wouldn't it have just been easier… _not_ to tell us?"

Ben sighed. "We've both said this multiple times. You're all attending the same school and we've determined that a chance meeting would not be… auspicious. The wrong comment at the wrong time could bring unwanted interest to his past. Although the current threat is quite low, there is no doubt that in the past he was… quite the person of interest."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "So why doesn't Alex speak for himself?" He turned to stare at Alex, who was still as withdrawn as ever. "It's your life they're—"

Alex looked up, as if in response, but stared past Tom. Past Sabina. Past everyone in the room. "_Ben_?" The question was quiet, but held some kind of unspoken urgency that caused Tom to snap his jaw shut. However, Alex wasn't even looking at them—or Ben, for that matter. There was the slightest tremble to his hands that were clasped in his lap. "I think… I don't think it stopped."

The statement was frustratingly vague, but it seemed to be some sort of cue to Ben. He swore softly, before moving so that he was next to Alex's chair. "You're sure? How long?"

Alex shrugged, focusing on Ben for one long moment. "Outside the door…" That was all the response they got from him for a long handful of seconds. Then he blinked and seemed to come back to himself. "I don't know. It's all fuzzy. Was fine earlier…"

Ben let out a long sigh. "I'm sure it was. Come on then." He took ahold of Alex's arm, and guided him to behind the desk. The curtains were pushed away, revealing a window seat and a window that wasn't really a window. "Make yourself comfortable. You know the drill."

A brief smile flittered across Alex's face, before it turned into a grimace. His hand pulled into a tight fist, and he stayed that way for several seconds, before his whole body relaxed. A confused expression crossed his face this time, but then it quickly became resigned. Whatever was going on, Alex knew.

"That's what I thought. So, in case it gets worse…" Ben pulled off Alex's glasses—Sabina wondered _when_ those had become necessary—and placed them on the desk. With one less barrier, he looked more and more like his younger self. Innocent and unknowing. "Hate to say it, but they're probably going to make you stay overnight this time."

Alex grumbled something at that, unintelligible to Sabina's ears, but Ben seemed to catch the gist of it.

"Sorry. Can't do much about that now. You were too stubborn." He stood up, patting Alex on the knee. "I'll go get Luke so you can get out of here. They'll get you comfortable." He turned and fixed both Sabina and Tom with a fierce stare. "Stop being so stubborn. Keep an eye on him, tell me if you notice anything strange when I get back, and try to keep him from getting worked up. That means no _Spanish Inquisition_."

They nodded as one, and for the first time Sabina wondered if there really had been a grain of truth to the claims that health kept him from attending classes all the time. With the way Alex currently looked—dazed stare, limp posture, and occasionally jerking hand—he looked more like someone with a chronic illness than an average university student.

"I'll be right back." Ben swept out the door, leaving the three former friends alone.

After a couple long moments, Alex's gaze cleared up again, this time flicking between Sabina and Tom, trying to gauge their reaction. He looked utterly exhausted—mainly because his façade of indifference was slipping. He had been emotionally shutting them out.

Taking the moment for what it was, Sabina cross the office and crouched down beside him. While only minutes earlier he had seem sullen and withdrawn, now it was clear that it was a different sort of silence. A suffering silence, only visible because the masks he had kept up were finally crumbling. "Alex?"

His eyes snapped to hers, flickering with apprehension and resignation. As if he expected her to berate him. Berate him for living and hiding.

She caved. His look was worse than a wounded puppy waiting to get kicked. "What's going on Alex? Are you okay?"

He blinked twice. "No." He stared at nothing, but it was a different stare from before. "It… it hurts. And it's exhausting. And I know it's just going to get worse. But... I'll be a little better tomorrow." He sighed, before looking down at his hands, which he was twisting back and forth in his lap. "Sorry."

"For what?"

He shrugged, ever so slightly, before letting out a shuddering sigh. "Bad timing… 'm sorry."

She exchanged a confused glance with Tom, who had joined her on the floor next to Alex. This time, when Alex's expression became distant, she somehow knew that it wasn't just a case of dazing out. Although he was still twisting his hands, for all intents and purposes, he had checked out for the time being.

She didn't know _why_ though.

After almost an entire minute—in which Sabina wondered how long it would take Ben to come back—Alex seemed to reenter their world. He blinked, stopping the motions with his hands. When he looked at them though, there was no doubt who he was looking at.

"Hey… who exactly was that man?" This time it was Tom's turn to ask a question.

"Oh… that's Ben." A faint smile crossed Alex's face, the first truly positive emotion that he had shown. "He's my brother."

Sabina blinked, trying to work that out in her mind. As far as she had known, Alex had been an only child. Otherwise, her family probably wouldn't have taken him in. He would have had somewhere else to go… A glance over at the pictures on the desk though showed that whoever the man really was, he had some close connection with Alex.

Alex grinned—looking just like the boy she used to know, if not a little exhausted. "He was my guardian for a while. Then his parents adopted me. So… he's now my brother. Lived with him for… just over four years now."

Sabina's smile mirrored Alex's. "You seem pretty happy with him."

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, well… he kept me from doing _stupid_ stuff. Even made me go back to school." His eyes slid shut for a long moment, before he forced them back open. "Missed you guys… Sorry for the trouble."

"Alex! You sound like you're trying to be on your death bed!" Sabina hadn't heard the door open up again, nor the small handful of people that had entered. One, a younger man that looked suspiciously like Ben, was at the front of the pack, and the one currently scolding Alex in a teasing tone. "You know as well as I do that you'll be fine in a couple days."

Once again, that almost familiar smile crossed Alex's face. "Hmm…"

"So, ready to ditch this place? Dominic's got first class accommodations and I hear Sayer can't wait to see you." This new person seemed to all but ignore their presence, instead moving so he was next to Alex. "How's it?"

Alex answered cryptically. "Fuzzy. And twitchy."

"Yeah, Ben told me that much. Come on then, Mendelssohn's going to give us a hand. Ben's got to catch your friends up, before they try to get us for kidnapping or something ridiculous like that." With the movements of one who knew exactly what he was doing, the new person got Alex up and out of the room—with the assistance of someone else—in a rather quick manner.

"Tell Sayer I want to speak with him this evening." Ben called, just before the door was shut.

"Of course! Though if he hasn't picked up the pattern yet…" The young man merely grinned, before closing the door behind him.

Ben gazed at the closed door for a long moment, before turning back to Tom and Sabina, surveying them with a weary gaze. "I supposed we might as well get on with this." He said, waving them toward the chairs. "And please. _Listen_ to me this time."

This time when they sat, they listened without comment. And as Ben explained—not for the first time, Sabina reminded herself—she began to understand what all was going on. And parts of just why Alex had gone to the lengths he had so many years ago.

The story was woven out of facts, part tragedy and part hope. From leaving the family that was supposed to be his—all because he wasn't ready to deal with his own demons—to hiding out for months in some of the worst places of London. Then the bittersweet moment of finding a friendly face—after an accident that was destined to have changed his life forever. Ben's own insights on Alex's struggles were all too real—especially in the fact that for months, Alex had hidden behind the façade of another persona, this _Alex Pierre_.

Then the dramatic revealing to MI6 and subsequent protection—protection that proved to be too little. Very little was said about the terrorist group, just that Alex had been captured and held for weeks. Tortured, until his body had very nearly given out. Ben skimmed through the recovery that was never quite a full recovery, noting that the move to attend university part time had been Alex's decision. He had been determined to finish his education, even though there were still times when his seizures—as just shown—made it impossible for him to function. On the whole, he had come a long way since those first few months of hiding out in the backstreets of London.

And _now_ Sabina understood. Or, at least, she thought she understood a little better. _He_ had changed remarkably. And there was no way that—even if for some strange reason Alex had _wanted_ to—the government could never employ him. He couldn't even get into the army. He had a permanent disability—and it seemed on the way that he had collected quite the number of friends.

"So, that was… _normal_?" Tom's voice was heavy with disbelief, but Sabina had a feeling that it wasn't because he didn't actually believe Ben. It was more out of surprise.

"Relatively speaking, yes. _Normal_. Though with Alex, it varies from time to time. Really, it only gets this bad once in a while, and he usually catches it a lot sooner—but he's been ignoring warning signs for the past couple of days, I'm sure." Ben ran a tired hand through his hair. "This is going to put him out of commission for a couple of days."

Sabina had a sudden insight into the possible reasons behind the current problems. She had had a classmate _years_ earlier that had had a different type of seizures, but that tended to get worse when placed under a lot of stress. "He's been stressing about this meeting, hasn't he…?"

Ben nodded. "A lot. He wasn't sure how you would take it."

Tom slouched. "And we played right into his worst fears, didn't we?"

"Most likely."

"We're idiots."

"Yes."

Sabina grimaced. He definitely wasn't pulling any punches in the guilt department. Granted, they probably rightfully deserved it…

"But I mean… How do you expect us to react? We're told for years that he's dead, and then he shows up right back in the heart of the people he had been trying to get away from. Conclusions are inevitable."

Ben's lips pressed into a thin line. "Honestly, this has gone about as well as I expected. Once you bothered to _listen_." He shrugged. "Even _I_ probably would have had a bit of murderous intent if I had thought he was dead for so long, and found out that he wasn't. I pretty much had to drag the answers out of him when I first found him. He's been through a lot."

Sabina nodded. That much was clear. "Do you… do you think we could visit him? When he's feeling better, that is. I… I want to make sure he knows I'm not angry. Just… _surprised_. And I guess happy to know that he seems happy."

Ben gave her a gentle smile. "I'm sure he won't say no to visitors in a few days. Provided he has the energy, I'm sure he and Luke wouldn't mind showing you around the campus."

"Luke?"

"My brother. He's visiting right now—and you just saw him." Ben stood up from his desk, signaling that the meeting was—_finally_—over. "Braden will make sure that you get to your residences. I apologize that this took so long, but as you can tell, it was anything but simple. Remember what you signed. This is _his_ life we're talking about. We'll be in contact." And with that, they were shuffled out of the office and into the waiting care of Braden.

Sabina walked in a daze, still trying to process all of the information. It was clear… Despite _dying_, Alex had had a very busy life.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, the big reveal. I hope I caught Sabina's thoughts clearly. It's not that she's angry that Alex is alive—she very glad to know that he is—she is just shocked at first that he would willingly go back to the people that had blackmailed for so long. And yes, she and Tom are just a bit of idiots at first, not paying attention to what either Ben or Alex were saying. But that was kind of the point. They're not perfect. And now they've got a bit more of an inside glance of the reality of Alex's new life.**

**(Sorry for the lateness, but it's exam week here, and I'm dying slowly…)**

**Let me know what your thoughts are in the comments. Only one more chapter to go. Sigh. I think this will truly be the end of the Starting Anew-verse. Hopefully it'll tie up enough ends for you all.**

**S.B.L.**


	6. PART 6

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Of course I totally came up with this first. (Quick, how many actually read the disclaimers anymore?) Nah. It all belongs to Horowitz._

**PART 6: The Closing**

* * *

It was four days before the group of old friends came together again, and this time it was inside the confines of a moderately sized flat—Alex's current residence. Ben and Luke were watching from a distance, making sure that nothing got out of hand, but something told Alex that they really needn't have worried.

In the past several days, Alex had reached the point where he wasn't sure what to expect anymore as far as his friends were concerned. He vaguely remembered Ben telling him that his friends had come around once they bothered to listen, but that had been while he was still in the hospital. After getting out of the hospital—where they had confirmed once again that there wasn't anything out of the ordinary going on in his brain—he had proceeded to spend much of the next day sleeping. He had done little more than stumble out to the meals Ben forced on him, collapse on the sofa, and listen to the tele. And sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

The seizures hadn't left very much brain processing power to do more than that, much less worry about what his friends were thinking or doing.

By the fourth day though, he was feeling a lot more like himself. His thoughts were clear, he had no more dragging exhaustion, and best of all—no weakness in his limbs. He didn't need his cane anymore as a necessity, but as a habit, if he went into public it would once again make an appearance. Not because he needed it, but because the way that people underestimated him made him more comfortable in public. Not that he had needed underestimation in a long time… but it never hurt to be cautious.

The fourth day though… Ben had dropped the bombshell that his friends were coming to visit. He supposed the short notice—only about an hour and before he had his first cup of tea no less—was supposed to make it harder for him to twist thousands of scenarios up in his mind, but it seemed that Ben didn't know him quite well enough. He had spun worst case scenarios all the way through his shower, all the way up until he was sitting on the couch waiting for that fateful doorbell to ring.

Ben was obviously delusional—there was no way that they could have possibly forgiven him…

The sight of Tom and Sabina as they came in the door though… he wasn't sure he would be able to deal with their full rejection.

Then Sabina was bounding across the room, and he almost flinched in reaction to what he was sure was going to be a hit. Then her arms were around him, and Alex was sure that his brain had ceased to function.

She was hugging him.

Her.

Hugging.

_Him._

"You're an absolute idiot, you know?" She muttered, squeezing him to tight that the air was being choked out of his lungs. "I'm so happy it wasn't real, but you're still an idiot." She let him go, rocking back on her heels, touching a hand gently to his face. As if she couldn't believe that he was flesh and blood. "I don't understand why you had to go so far, back then, to get away… but you're doing better than I could have ever imagined."

He knew what she was talking about. She had seen him during those fateful weeks in _that_ summer. For the longest time _he_ hadn't thought there was any moving on from it. Clearly though, there was.

"She's right."

Alex glanced up to see his oldest friend leaning against the frame of the door, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Remember, _always_ agree with a woman." Tom smirked at him, causing a hesitant smile to creep up on Alex's face. _Did he dare…?_ "Of course, I suppose it's different for you. Once an idiot, always an idiot."

This time, the smile did creep across his face—shy and cautious. _His_ friends were acting so… _normal_. As if little time had gone by, instead of years and years. "You know me. I never think before I act."

"That's for sure." Luke muttered from his position on the chair next to the couch.

"Hey!" Alex reached over to slap him, but missed by several inches.

Luke just grinned at him. "You said it first."

Alex stuck his tongue out at Luck, before turning back to his friends—_his friends_. "Sorry about… before." He guessed that they got that he _wasn't_ talking about the years and years, and instead what had happened only several days before. "Things weren't supposed to be that complicated. They said it would be a bring you in, explain things, and life continues as normal kind of thing. Not some… _production_. But, I uh… guess Ben explained that too…"

Tom rolled his eyes. "As if things could be _normal_. This is _you_ we're talking about."

Alex couldn't stop the snort that came out. "I'll have you know, I've had a relatively _normal_ life for the past couple of years." Once the seizures had become the norm, that is… and the occasional training run for MI6 newbies…

He didn't bother to hide the smile at _those_ memories, but decided it probably was best to keep those thoughts to himself. As much as his friends were happy to see him alive and kicking, they _probably_ wouldn't approve of the limited contact he still had with MI6. However, that kind of life wasn't something that you could just walk away from… and it was complicated. Judging from their previous reactions, he figured it was best just not to get into it with them.

"Now, Ben said something to me earlier about a walk, and that sounds like a good idea." It had been mentioned in passing as something he could do to keep the awkwardness at a relatively low level. What better than showing them around the campus…? "I could use some exercise after lying around for the past couple of days."

Both Tom and Sabina looked ready to protest—and he could almost predict what their excuses would be—so he just brushed them off. It looked like he had gained himself another couple of mother hens…

"My doctor already cleared me for activity. It's just what I need. Besides, you need to not treat me like a glass egg. I _know_ when enough is enough." He decided to ignore the looks of amusement that passed between Luke and Tom, and instead levered himself up from the couch and went looking for his jacket. "So are you coming or not? I'm perfectly happy to go out by myself…" And if they remembered anything about him, it was that he was perfectly willing to follow through on his threats.

"Are you… are you sure this'll be okay?" Tom asked.

Alex sent him a mischievous grin. "Are you asking in the 'will there be maniacs trying to kill us' kind of sense, or in the 'are you going to collapse again' kind?"

Tom flushed and sent Alex a glare. "Both then."

Alex just grinned at the sheer familiarity of it all. "Well… since you asked. It looks relatively clear and sunny outside, with a low probability of henchmen or collapsing. Though… if you see someone more than once, let me know. I'll probably know who they are—and that means they aren't doing their job very well." He grabbed his cane from beside the door and walked out into the hallway, barely hearing the short conversation behind him.

"So… has he always been this sarcastic?" That was Luke.

Tom's laughter was clear. "Oh, believe me. He used to be _much_ worse."

Alex smiled to himself. Perhaps everything would be okay again. He had his two oldest friends back, after all. And it didn't seem that they were going to be abandoning him anytime soon. Ben sent him a knowing glance when the others joined him in the hall.

Before he could head out the door though, Tom caught his shoulder—as well as a light flinch.

Tom smiled ruefully at him, before shaking his head. "I feel like we should start over. It's not fair to you to expect everything to be the way it used to be. You've changed… and to be honest, I'm sure I've changed as well." Tom held out his hand, which Alex hesitantly took, not fully understanding. "Hello Alex, I'm Tom Harris. I just moved back from Italy." A sly grin crossed his face. "Which means that I'm now fluent in Italian."

Understanding shot through Alex's brain. This was _starting over_. "Alex Daniels. Linguistics major that just so happens to speak a little bit of Italian." An easy grin settled on his face, before Sabina took him by the shoulder.

She smiled at him. "Sabina Pleasure. Psychology and language sciences major. And unfortunately, the only other language I speak is some very bad Spanish." She then pulled him into another hug. "And I'm very glad to make your reaquaintance."

Fin.

* * *

**A/N: And that's all folks!**

**Sad to say, but I think this is the end of the Starting Anew-verse. Everything is pretty much wrapped up, set nicely in the future, with, as Alex put it, a "low probability of henchmen or collapsing." And he's even got his friends back now—which will probably either be a good thing or a bad thing in the long run for him ^_^**

**Thank you, every one of you, for joining in on this journey. I hope to tackle another AR story sometime in the future, but I'm not sure when I'll have time or motivation. I have a couple of ideas rolling around in my head, but we'll see what comes next.**

**Until next time!**

**S.B.L.**


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